


Peculiar Ballet

by jesterlady



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Resolution, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odo's and Kira's relationship can be spanned solely by the interaction of their hands and Odo takes the time to remember it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peculiar Ballet

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own DS9. The title is by Barbara Brown Taylor

At some point he noticed the fascination her hands held for him. Maybe it had started the day that she'd tried to thwart an unwanted suitor by putting her hand over his. He still felt the burn of that touch. Or something idle like the moment they’d met when she absentmindedly played with her spoon or something like her fingers brushing against his as he offered her a glass.

Perhaps it had started when she'd taken his hand and pressed it so close to her heart on the night when he'd discovered his people and felt abandoned all over again. But not by her.

There were many other times in which their hands had touched. He even treasured a memory which didn't belong to him. The other Odo had let Kira in on their secret and had held her hand on a beautiful planet. It had been perfect, even with a bittersweet parting of clasped hands and, for one moment, joined lips.

Sometimes their hands met in desperate moments. When the Dominion had taken over the station and they were surrounded by a sea of enemies and she was so lost and enraged, he’d held out his hand to her in solidarity and she had clutched it as a sign of their comradeship and eventual victory.

One time, he'd been in Vic's and he'd finally felt comfortable and he’d felt like maybe, just maybe, someday, he could make her love him. And then he'd seen it. His own hands were resting on the ivory keys, but suddenly, a hand had appeared from behind the curtain, casually snapping its fingers to the beat. He'd know that hand anywhere. It was his own personal goal of heaven.

He recalled her hands as he'd taken them and put them in their respective places the first time they'd danced in Vic's club. They'd felt like they belonged there, one pressed close to his heart.

Her hands were sometimes sweaty and white with clenched determination as she gripped a springball racquet and attempted to beat him. Champion though her hands were, they seldom succeeded.

Once, he thought he'd lost her as she'd held his hands and kissed them in farewell. When she'd let them go, the loss had hit his system like a physical blow. He'd stood in place for a solid five minutes, unable to grasp the situation.

And then when he hadn't left and her hands had been lifted in prayer for him, she gave him the world. They stood, palm to palm, and he became what he truly was and felt her joy and her glory in sharing that with him. It had been the perfect mixture of the worlds of Solids and Changelings, as wonderful as any Link he'd ever experienced.

So many times she would come to him in his office, in the place where he reigned supreme, and only she could make him melt there. He’d be lost and afraid of losing her, not being good at humanoid relationships, or he’d be confused and frustrated about his Changeling people, having just met one who tried to change him; each time, she would take his hands and knit them with hers, communicating her anchor to his wayward emotions. A blessing to his tortured soul.

When he had lain in a bio bed, misshapen, molting, revolting, she had pressed close and put her lips on his and his hand involuntarily came up to touch her own. It was his source of comfort and one thing he wanted to remember about her before he died.

When he truly did leave, he held her hands and this time he kissed them in farewell as she kissed his in return. Whatever served for a heart among his people was breaking, even though they smiled and kissed and understood each other completely. And the last thing he gave her was his hand in farewell and the last thing she gave him was her own, stretched out to him and it was the one thing he most wanted to see before he merged with his people.

When he came back because his task was done and saw her joyous eyes light up at the sight of him, what he looked for were her hands and there they were, reaching for him, anxious to touch him and feel his reality. He grasped them and kissed them and held them to his heart and every time he'd ever encountered those hands flashed before his eyes. Her grip tightened and she leaned her forehead against his.

“You came back,” she said.

“I came home,” he said, using a line he'd heard in Vic's, and even if it was cheesy, he meant it.

She smiled again, wrinkling her nose even more than usual.

Then they stood at the window, handfast, watching the wormhole open as a Celestial Temple, as they had so many times before. It was more than enough for now. It meant forever and words weren’t needed. Their hands knew each other intimately and communicated the intents of their hearts.


End file.
